Neverland
by achieving elysium
Summary: AU. Pre-TLO. Three months before his sixteenth birthday, Percy Jackson finds out about the prophecy that foretells his death. A best friend at his side, a road trip from New York to California across the states, Kronos, demigod dreams, and a quietly building love for both the world and a girl... What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

**Neverland**  
 _achieving elysium_  
written for the PJO/HoO Mini-Bang on tumblr

 _Dear Cho : This one's for you. I didn't know it at first, but I hope you understand that Neverland... this story's yours just as much as it's mine._

* * *

 _chapter one_

 _Click. "Hey, Percy. Haven't heard from you in a few days and wanted to check in... hope you're okay. Don't worry about it. We'll make it through like we always do. Together. IM me or something, okay?"_

 _Click. "Hey, Seaweed Brain, I haven't heard from you. Hope your head's not too full of kelp. I told you once that I'd stand with you - that hasn't changed. Anyway, I gotta go - just talk to someone, okay? Even... even if it's not me. Bye!"_

 _Click. "I know you're not awake right now, it's three your time, but... I just... I couldn't... whatever, forget it. It's not- it's stupid. I'm stupid. I don't know. You probably don't want to hear this, sorry. Bye."_

 _Click. "Percy-"_

 _Click. "I'm worried about-"_

 _Click. Click. Click._

Percy tossed his phone onto the desk, watching it skid across dark wood before groaning and falling back onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, a frustration and anger building up inside of him like a storm. He rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow, releasing a yell of anger. A quiet rattling filled the room.

 _Breathe._ He just had to breathe. A fist clenched blue bedsheets, ragged nails digging into flesh. _Just take a deep breath._

The glass of water he'd left on his desk shattered in a mess of powdered glass and cold water, spilling and dripping slowly down to the floor. Percy sat up, trembling as he stared at the mess he'd made. It seemed like he couldn't do _anything_ right these days.

"I should clean that up," he mumbled to himself, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. Mom would, though - at the thought, his stomach squeezed uncomfortably. The walls suddenly seemed to close in around him. It wasn't a small room by any means, but there was no freedom here. A few weeks ago, Percy had begun to confine himself in a prison of his own making; now, he searched frantically for a way out of it.

The only way to go was to the fire escape, long and thin and rickety, and that was the path Percy decided to take. He leaned forward, the iron railing digging into his skin through the fabric of his jacket. Around him, New York carried on as always - loud and bustling and beautiful. Here, in the city, he was nothing - a single part of a living, breathing behemoth.

He took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The fresh air helped, crisp as it was, though far from clean. The familiar sights and sounds did, too, grounding him.

 _A half-blood of the eldest gods..._

He studied the buildings, windows glimmering with reflections of deep blues and purples as day gave way to night. Cars honked. People walked and talked. Together, they formed utter chaos, but home was home.

 _...shall reach sixteen against all odds._

Percy's fists tightened around the railing, cool metal biting into his palm. Sixteen. He had about three months - three months that would fly by with a snap of his fingers or a blink of an eye, as much as he tried to deny it. As much as anyone tried to deny it, really.

"Percy?" He almost missed his name being called, the streets too loud for him to hear anything. He turned, eyes flicking to the door where Mom was standing, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. He clambered back into the room, shutting the entrance - or the exit - to the fire escape shut.

"I'll clean up the mess, Mom-" he started, turning towards his bathroom to get a spare towel. He didn't want to meet her eyes. Didn't want to face her.

"Percy," she cut in, and he paused, sticking his hands in his pockets and scuffing at the floor with his feet. She came closer, reaching out for him but stopping herself, her hands fluttering at her side like small birds. "Percy, I'm worried about you."

Something drained out of him, his frustration at the world dying. He couldn't be mad at Mom - not ever, and she'd been nothing but good to him anyway. _He_ was the wrong one. He turned slowly to face her. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She wrung her hands, looking torn, as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to throw her arms around him or scold him. Instead, she twisted her fingers together and said: "Grover's here looking for you."

A flicker of surprise, though it soon dulled. More than once - quite often, in fact - people would swing by the Jackson-and-kind-of-Blofis apartment. It was like a meeting place, a rendezvous point, and they'd tote in ideas and battle plans and news. The living room had been completely taken over, weapons lining the shelves as opposed to the usual school books, huge Grecian tomes acting as paperweights for the maps on the coffee table, and even more maps were tacked to the wall, bright pushpins marking spots.

His room didn't look much better. He'd asked for help from the Hephaestus and the scattered Hecate kids (as Hecate was firmly on the _other_ side), and now a Celestial Bronze framed mirror hung on his wall. Paul had given him a funny look when he'd hefted it through the front door; to him, it was nothing but a normal - albeit large and rather intricate-looking - mirror. But Percy wasn't a regular mortal, and so in the mirror, he watched Camp Half-Blood prepare for battle or monsters as they attacked. It was also a two-way mirror, with the second one in the council room in the Big House.

Percy spent a _lot_ of time preparing. He hated it - no, he didn't hate working to protect the people he loved, the family he'd found after so many years. But he hated the way Mom would look at him, something terribly sad in her eyes when she caught him at his desk, pouring over more reports with an open textbook nearby, trying desperately to balance his two lives. He hated the way Paul would glance curiously, his eyes brightening in curiosity but darkening when neither Percy nor Mom would answer his questions.

He hated inching closer and closer to war. To battle. To destruction.

To death.

 _And see the world in endless sleep._

Grover was waiting for him near the big window that stretched from the beginning of the living room (first room in the apartment) and into the dining room. He was staring out at the New York skyline, much like Percy had only moments ago. He was pacing almost nervously, a (paper and therefore edible) cup of water in his hand. He didn't turn, but Percy knew he heard Percy's footsteps, quiet against the floor.

"Hey," he said, coming to stand by his best friend. Grover had grown in the months that he'd gone, doing duties as the Lord of the Wild. He was taller, a little bit more reserved - in a good way, his stance more confident. His hair had grown out, and his horns had grown with it. Now they spiraled up and out of his hair. Percy spotted his Rasta cap sticking out of his jean pocket, partly hidden by the green jacket that sagged over Grover's lanky frame.

"Hey, Percy," Grover bleated. He hadn't taken a bite out of his cup yet, so Percy took that as a good sign.

"I'm surprised you're here," he finally admitted, smiling. "Thought you would be off doing great and awesome things as the new _Lord of the Wild_." Grover rolled his eyes, but he, too, smiled.

"Yeah," he agreed. "but I figured you might want a friend around." He tapped a finger against his head, and Percy realized with a horrible flash of guilt as he realized that every emotion he'd had over the past two weeks had also been felt by Grover.

"Don't be sorry," Grover said, but he couldn't help the feeling.

"I know," Percy replied, lips pressing together. "You shouldn't have come," he said sharply, though his words weren't unkind.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Grover asked. He rounded on Percy, dark eyes serious. "Percy, you're my _best friend._ I don't care what's going on, if you need me, I'll be here. No matter what."

"The world is about to end," Percy hissed, glancing at Mom and Paul, who were working in the kitchen and were trying very hard not to eavesdrop. "Don't worry about me." Grover gripped his shoulders so hard it hurt, eyes searching his.

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked, letting out a warm breath. "If the world is ending, then I sure as hell better be at your side as it does." Percy felt his shoulders slump. He looked away, back out towards New York. His city, his home, one that would eventually become a war zone.

"Get me out of here," he pleaded, looking at his best friend. "I don't care where. I don't know what I'm doing and this is the most stupid thing I've ever done, but I need to get out. Somewhere. I think.. I think I'll ask if I can take Paul's Prius." Here, he glanced over at his soon-to-be stepdad, wondering what he would say.

"You want me to go with you," Grover guessed correctly, and Percy sighed again.

"You don't have to go," he told him. "but if you would..."

"Of _course_ I would, Perce. I didn't come all this way and just lecture you about our friendship for nothing, you know." The two exchanged weak grins, and despite himself, Percy felt a cool, welcome relief settle into his bones.

"I better start packing, then," he said faintly, the implications of what he was about to do settling in. It was no doubt one of the craziest things he'd ever done. A road trip with no destination right before the start of a war? Probably not the best idea he'd ever had, but still... there were so many things he'd never done or seen, so many things he still wanted to do - and this was his chance.

He'd be a fool not to take it.

"Boys?" Mom called, and the two of them turned. "If you're done, dinner is almost ready." It _did_ smell good - spaghetti, it seemed. Percy hadn't even realized how hungry he was until he caught sight of the thin noodles drenched in red sauce, how much he'd longed for comfort. Grover trailed behind him, looking awkward.

"Uh, Mrs. Jackson," he began, and Percy stomped on his foot. He let out a squeak - rules were, if you called Mom Mrs. Jackson, you were already getting off to a bad start. "Er, Sally," Grover corrected, flushing red. He slapped his Rasta cap against his thigh almost nervously.

"Mhmm?" Mom hummed as she and Paul set down four plates on the table.

"I should be going soon, I'm not-" Percy stepped on Grover's foot again and shot him a glare that said: _don't even try to refuse._ Grover sighed. "But-"

Percy threw an arm around his friend's shoulder and led him to the table. "It's better if you just eat with us, Grover," he told him, grinning. "Mom's never gonna let you leave, man, I thought you'd know that by now."

Mom clicked her tongue as Percy dragged his chair back, making a loud scraping noise against the floor. "If you're done trying to leave, Grover, would you rather I get you a paper plate so you can eat that as well?"

Paul almost dropped the plate he was holding, but no one else batted an eye. He stared incredulously at them - he was still getting used to the whole demigod thing. Percy stifled a laugh, and Grover only quietly sighed and pulled up a chair.

"Yeah, thanks," he muttered, and the two of them really did laugh when Mom had to gently remove the plate from Paul's hands and get a paper one.

Forks scraped across plates. Sauce was poured, red-dotted lips wiped, and light chatter said. Percy stayed silent for the most part, performing his long-perfected art of nodding and "yes/no"-ing in all the right places. Grover kept sending him looks throughout dinner. Percy knew he was picking up on the uneasy, out-of-control feelings that were rolling around in him.

"So, um," Percy started, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Grover's eyes dart towards them then towards the two adults, who have paused to listen. "I- er, I kind of need to borrow your Prius for a few weeks if you'll let me, Paul?" It came out even worse than what he'd been rehearsing in his head.

Mom had that look on her face - the look she got when she knew something was up. He swallowed. "It's not... it's not a quest," he added hastily. "Not like that, I just..."

This was going terribly, terribly wrong. He let out a deep breath and set down his fork, realizing he'd been clenching his fist around it much too tightly.

"Where are you going?" It was Paul who spoke up, and Grover scratched his neck and exchanged a heavy, loaded look with Percy.

"Anywhere," the satyr answered, his tone light. He betrayed his feelings by starting to chew on his plate rather loudly though, a sign that always meant he was nervous.

"Anywhere?" Mom echoed softly, her face tightening. "Percy, Grover, I trust you two, but are you sure this is the right time for this?" She wrung her hands together and pursed her lips.

 _The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap._

"Please," he begged, his fingers tapping against the edge of his chair. His leg bounced; he couldn't seem to get it to stop. He ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get out of here, Mom," he pleaded.

Mom's brow crinkled, but her brown eyes, so clear, were filled with understanding. She reached out across the table and tugged at his arms until he let her take his hands, squeezing.

"Percy," Paul said, wavering. Percy didn't blame his (almost) stepdad at all. It _was_ his car after all, and entrusting it to a trouble-attracting fifteen year-old demigod with a permit was _probably_ not the best idea.

"Please," he tried again. "I know I haven't..." His throat closed up, and he suddenly found it hard to choke out the words. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, a flash of self-hate running through him. "I- I haven't been the best son lately, but-"

"It's not safe out there, Percy!" Paul argued, his voice rising. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated.

 _It's not safe anywhere,_ Percy wanted to say, but he stopped himself when Grover shot him a warning look. Instead, he said: "I can't stay here right now. I have to get out, go somewhere... anywhere but here." He stood up, ready to leave, and Grover mirrored the action.

Mom finally broke her silence, and she rose, flying across the short distance between them and throwing her arms around him. He hadn't realized he was taller than her until now, her arms snaking around his waist. He pressed his chin to her shoulder and breather in, the smell of baked goods and something that just screamed _home._ He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. The warmth of her arms. The solidity in it, the strength. Familiarity. The feeling that he belonged here, with her - _home._

"Let me go," he said quietly, unsure of who he was talking to. His eyes flicked up to meet Grover's, then to Paul's, the sea green of his father meeting the dark brown of his stepfather.

"Oh, Percy," Mom whispered. "I just want you to be _happy._ " Her voice broke a little, and his heart cracked with it.

"I'm sorry," he tried, repeating the words. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

A muscle was jumping in Paul's jaw; he didn't seem to understand what Percy was talking about. But Mom finally stepped back, her eyes a little red-rimmed yet a small smile playing on her lips. She understood.

Paul sighed, suddenly looking a million years older. "I don't want you making the wrong decision, Percy," he finally said, voice heavy. "And I don't want you to run away either, not from... whatever's making you lock yourself up. Whatever's… scaring you."

Percy shuddered violently at the thought. Fifteen. He was _fifteen._ It only felt like yesterday when he'd been twelve years old, a troubled kid at Yancy's with an awkward best friend and the best Latin teacher he'd ever had. Now he was fifteen, the demigod son of Poseidon with the best friend he could ask for, a centaur for a mentor, alongside other weird things. A blink of an eye and he'd ended up here.

"I'm not- I'm not running away." Percy found his voice was hoarse, throat tight. Grover's eyes flashed in his direction, and the gaze was enough for Percy to know that his best friend wasn't about to let this go. He swallowed. "I'm going either way."

Grover caught Percy's eyes for what felt like the millionth time, and he jerked his head towards the door. Percy shook his head in a _no._ The two had long perfected wordless communication ever since they'd become friends in Mrs. Dodd's class and she'd separated them for being too loud.

His best friend shifted and flicked his fingers towards the door, and Percy held his hand up as if to say _stop._ He didn't want Grover to leave, not yet. The other teen relented, his shoulders slumping a little, but he stayed quiet, most likely not wanting to intrude on the "family moment," though it didn't seem much like one.

Paul and Mom looked at each other, and his stepdad relented. "To the car, then?" he suggested.

"Oh," Mom started, looking worried. "but what about-"

Paul put an arm around Mom's shoulder as he and Grover groaned in unison, the latter a bit quieter. "We'll figure it out along the way, Mrs. Jackson," Grover said.

Who planned road trips, anyway? They'd just pack some stuff and go for it, though if Annabeth were here, she'd immediately start budgeting and calculating and mapping - no, stuff like that made Percy's head spin. He didn't like order much, or rules, especially when it came to following them.

Mom sighed and began bustling around the apartment, searching for things. She'd probably end up stuffing half the car with things they wouldn't need if they weren't careful. The three men were left standing awkwardly, Paul running a hand through his hair again. He looked at Percy and Grover.

"You're sure about this?"

Percy didn't trust himself to speak, so Grover gave a sharp nod. "We're sure." He sounded sure - much more than Percy was, anyway. Paul nodded slowly, and as he left to join Mom, Percy wondered if Paul understood - if he really understood this life that they had. Constantly looking over shoulders, hands searching for weapons, children training for war.

 _A single choice shall end his days._ He knew the answer. It'd be a no - but maybe Paul understood _something_ , some part of him knowing how deep the situation was. How desperate Percy was.

He turned away, feeling like his insides were churning like the waves on a bad day. Grover fell into step behind him as they reached Percy's room, powdered glass sparkling on the ground. Percy waved a hand, a familiar tug in his gut as the water disappeared.

 _Olympus to preserve or raze._ The last two lines of the prophecy repeated themselves over and over again in his head, even as he crossed the room to pull out his drawers and toss what he wanted to bring onto the bed. Grover dragged a few duffel bags from where they'd been sitting in the corner, each one already packed with basic provisions and a few sets of clothes. A precaution.

"It'll be alright," his best friend said, beginning to help Percy get his stuff together. It wouldn't take long, and he wasn't planning on bringing too much either. He found some of Grover's clothes in the bottom drawer and tossed them in the direction of his friend, losing himself in the work. "We'll be okay, the three of us. We always are."

The _three_ of us, Grover had said - not two. As if Annabeth, too, was here; he could almost imagine it. She'd sit on the bed and talk excitedly about the monuments they _had_ to visit, and the routes they could take to get there the fastest. They were never really apart, the three of them, not really. The friendship they had held them together, their bond tight like string stretched across miles and miles. He let that sink in for a while. Friendship, one of the good things in the world.

The one thing he'd never regret. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No, now was the time to _live_ , to feel alive - though Percy had the feeling he'd be back to moping within the hour. For now, though...

He glanced over and grinned at his best friend, who stopped in his work to look at Percy. "Yeah," he agreed. "We'll be okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Neverland  
** _achieving elysium_

written for the PJO/HoO Mini-Bang on tumblr

 _Dear Cho_ : _You're the Percy to my Grover. Or the Grover to my Percy. Not sure, but we've got a bond thicker than ichor either way._

* * *

 _chapter two_

"Why did I think this was a good idea?" Percy moaned, leaning forwards against the steering wheel. He hadn't quite thought about the fact that he lived in New York - arguably one of the busiest cities in the world. This also meant there was traffic all the time, which was how he and Grover ended up here - stuck at an intersection.

Grover just brayed mournfully, leaning back in his seat a little. "First detour?" he suggested, and Percy cocked an eyebrow.

"It's only been, like, ten minutes," he protested feebly.

"Might as well go somewhere," Grover quipped, and Percy switched the left blinker on. There was a place he hadn't been to in New York in a while, not since life had started going all out of whack. Jones Coffee and Bakery - it'd kept him awake during the school year, and it would _definitely_ keep him awake on the two-hour long drive out of New York.

"Coffee," Percy said, turning left and keeping his eyes on the road. " _Jones_ coffee."

"Bah-ah-ah," Grover said disdainfully, sounding like the goat-ish version of Scrooge. _Humbug,_ Percy added mentally, grinning to himself. "You know I don't like coffee."

"Tea, then," Percy suggested, shrugging with a shoulder. "or you can get one of those really expensive pastries with the icing and the filling..." Grover snorted. As if. He'd probably start eating the plate they'd serve it on.

"What about that old diner we used to go to every day?" his friend suddenly asked. Percy glanced sideways to find a strange expression on Grover's face, dark eyebrows drawn together in thought. He frowned - there were _tons_ of diners in New York, and Percy had gone to a lot of them. "You know," Grover prompted. "Summer two, remember?"

Summer two - Percy remembered now. They'd started counting their summers - Percy, Grover, and Annabeth, at least - since they'd become friends. It'd been a slow, hot day in summer two, too early in break to go to Camp Half-Blood but in enough so they'd had the time to meet up. He remembered being sprawled on his bed, Annabeth perched carefully on the edge and Grover pacing in front of them. So they'd gone out - to Ruby's Diner, an old-fashioned place about to close down.

It hadn't closed down, though, for some funny reason Percy _couldn't_ remember. And so they'd kept going, the three of them - though Annabeth wasn't with them now. She'd gone back to San Francisco to stay with her dad for a month or something, and though Percy didn't completely understand all of her reasons, he sort of got it. He _did_ miss her, though, a lot more than he'd care to admit.

A couple of missed turns later, Percy kicked his feet back and forth as he sipped at a blue raspberry milkshake out of a tall glass. He felt like a kid again, like at any moment Annabeth would pop up, her blonde hair tied back, and slip onto the stool next to him.

Grover met his eyes across the table, and he got the feeling that they were both thinking of the exact same thing. He broke the connection first, turning to stare out the window. "Do you ever... think about it?" he asked, stirring idly at his drink. "Like maybe if we weren't who we are?"

He could feel Grover's dark eyes on him. "Sometimes. But would you really want that life, Percy? Being a simple mortal - your biggest problems homework and what you're going to get on that test and what people think of you? Being sucked into technology? Never thinking about the things that we do - death," Percy flinched. "war, love, loss?"

He didn't know the answer. He didn't know what he wanted - or if offered the chance, if he'd give up this life in a heartbeat to live as a normal teenager.

"I dunno," he said, pausing to slurp at his milkshake again. He looked back at Grover and shook his head. "It's not important, anyway. Just a stupid thought."

Grover gave him a smile that told Percy he didn't quite believe the lie, but he shrugged. "Do you remember summer one?" he started instead, a lightness in his tone that hadn't been there before. A bad subject change, but he appreciated the effort. "That one prank with the lake?"

Percy grinned. "You mean the one with the whipped cream and Cabin Eleven getting everyone's mattresses out on the lake somehow?"

Grover laughed. "All seventy-two of them. And you were the only one who could get the campers all back, but it took _forever_ to get you up."

He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together as embarrassment surfaced. "That wasn't _my_ fault," he protested. "The Stolls found some sleeping stuff or whatever, trying to wake me wouldn't have worked!"

"Do you remember summer three?"

"The Hoover Dam?" he asked, grinning so widely it felt like his face was going to split. "That was winter, though."

"Summer, winter," Grover said dismissively, waving a hand. "but still. Hoover Dam."

Percy snorted, trying to swallow down a sip of his milkshake instead of spitting it all over the table. The joke was still funny, for some stupid reason; Percy pictured the confused face of Zoe Nightshade and laughed.

"I kinda miss the dam snack bar," he gasped out, and Grover snickered.

"The dam food was actually pretty good," he said conversationally, and they lost it.

"Remember when I had to hide in the dam bathroom?"

"They almost caught us in the dam gift shop?"

"Too bad you didn't get any _dam_ souvenirs." Percy buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking from laughter. He hadn't felt this good - this _light_ \- in a while. He'd have to do it more often.

Grover slumped back, which seemed like an uncomfortable position considering he was on a barstool. He ran a hand through the thick curls on top of his head, momentarily allowing Percy to see the long horns protruding upwards. He wondered how no one had seen it - the Mist, probably.

When they caught each other's eyes, Percy couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled to his lips. Grover began to laugh, too, and they wound up in hysterics, milkshakes forgotten.

"Oh, gods," Grover said finally, as Percy tried to calm himself down by taking a drink. "We're _insane_."

"What else would we be?" he asked, shrugging. A figure moved in the corner of his eye - the waitress, a different one than the one earlier.

"Hey, Grover," he said lowly, jerking his chin in the direction of the woman stalking towards them, arms crossed.

"What?" Grover asked, though he didn't turn.

"Waitress is giving us the stink-eye," he murmured, leaning in closer. "I bet she's about to kick us out."

"For what? Enjoying ourselves?" By now, she'd reached their spot. He looked up, pulling on his innocent face.

"Excuse me," the waitress said. He scrunched his nose at the sound of her voice, high-pitched and nasally, like she was some monster in disguise. He glanced at her name tag and gave up; it was a long name that made his brain spin. "I'm going to have to ask you boys to leave."

"What did we do?" Grover asked, swallowing.

"You were bothering our other customers," she snapped, her blue eyes flashing. She reminded him a bit of one of those nasty old teachers - or librarians - that always stuck to the rules. Problem: he didn't.

Percy cast an eye around the diner and stuck a shit-eating grin on his face. "There are no other customers," he retorted. It was true, at the very least. "Can't see how we'd be bothering them if they're non-existent."

Her eyes narrowed, though her face turned a brilliant shade of red. A good look on her, he decided. He exchanged an amused look with his best friend as she, too, looked around, as if realizing that the diner was rather devoid of life. "They- there were people here just a minute ago," she sputtered.

She'd probably rip his throat out for his next comment, but: "Guess they all left when you showed up, huh?" He hadn't thought it was possible for her to get any more red, but she did. Grover glared at him; _play nice._ It was a bit too late for that.

He let out a soft, almost-unheard sigh. Grover would probably scold him about it later, like Mom would've - though he wouldn't have dared to act anything but good around her.

"Get out," the waitress snarled, pointing a finger at the door. "Get out, both of you!" Grover's lips twitched as he fought back a laugh; the amusement wouldn't last long, unfortunately. '

"But, uh, ma'am, we're not finished with our drinks.." Here it came - the explosion he could've seen coming from a million miles away.

The waitress struggled to regain control of her emotions, trying to make a decision. "Finish your drinks," she spat finally, looking cross. "then leave and don't come back."

"Don't plan on coming back," he murmured.

"Savage," Grover muttered under his breath, and Percy bit down _hard_ on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. They'd antagonized the poor waitress enough as it was.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" she asked sharply, and Grover shook his head.

"No, ma'am," he said, awfully polite.

She gave them a long look as if waiting - or hoping - for them to act up again. They didn't. She glared at them one last time before storming away, muttering curses under her breath. Percy and Grover exchanged grins, and he held out his hand for a fist bump.

"I've seen scarier," he said, turning back to finish his drink. Grover rolled his eyes.

"Not _everyone_ is the demigod son of Poseidon," he reminded Percy, but he was smiling.

"You have to admit she was more hilarious than anything, though," he shot back, slurping at his drink loudly. Grover chewed on his straw and gave him the look.

"That wasn't a good idea, Percy," he scolded, and he gave a dramatic sigh.

"Here we go again." Grover ignored the comment. "And I never have good ideas, do I?" He ignored this comment, too.

Grover frowned. "You can't go around insulting everyone."

"Right," he drawled. Then he shrugged, changing the topic. "So… road trip."

Grover let it slide. He gave Percy a sideways glance. "What's the plan, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Visit a few national monuments, have the times of our lives, and try not to die?"

"Or blow up anything," Grover added, a glint in his eye. "As good of a plan as any."

"That was _once_ , okay?" Percy complained loudly, holding up one finger. The waitress from earlier, who was now wiping down a table aggressively, shot him a heat-filled glare. He lowered his voice, not feeling like being yelled at again. "Once."

Grover shrugged. "Whatever you say, Perce."

"So," Percy said as they slid from their seats and left, Percy spinning the ring of car keys around his finger. "Where to next?"

"Wherever you take us," he answered carefully as they clambered into the car, Percy's thoughts already a million miles away.

"And if I somehow drive us off a cliff?" he asked. Grover chuckled. "It could happen." It was probably going to happen. He hoped he wouldn't have to pay for it, or worse, have it be his fault entirely.

"Then I'd go down with you all the way and start praying to the gods." He didn't know why, but when Percy began the long drive out of New York, he was smiling.

The time seemed to drift by. He didn't feel like talking; maybe Grover sensed this, so he hadn't engaged in much conversation either. Instead, the satyr pulled out his reed pipes and softly played along to the warbled voices trickling out of the radio, somewhat refreshing considering what he usually played. He hummed along, fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel.

After a while, Grover announced he was going to sleep, telling Percy that he trusted him enough to find a place to crash so Percy could sleep, too. Or, at least, that was what he'd thought Grover had said – he'd fallen asleep mid-sentence.

The next time Percy glanced at the clock, it was 12:27 in the morning. He'd gotten them out of the city, and the tall buildings and bright lights he was used to calling home had become sparser.

There was no sound; it was almost eerily quiet in the car. It was only Grover's snoring and the quiet voices singing to him from the radio that reminded him he wasn't alone. He wasn't the only person in the entire world – though that was what it felt like. With the near-silence and having no cars around, it felt like it was just him and the open road in front.

" _What happens when we reach the end of the road,_ " Percy sang along softly, grinning at the irony of the lyrics. " _when all of this is over?_ " Next to him, Grover stirred, shifting in his seat. He mumbled something about enchiladas and saving the wildforest. His grin widened.

There was something comforting about the quiet, though, he mused to himself. Something about driving along an empty road in the middle of the night, his only company his best friend (asleep) and a handful of radio hosts, sitting in a station far, far away. It gave him time to think.

When Percy realized he wasn't tired, it was 3:11 in the morning. Sure, his back ached a little. He was beginning to get restless; he'd fidget in his seat and count the passing signs if there were any. But his mind was still wide awake, buzzing with thoughts. He thought of Annabeth, staying with her dad in San Francisco. She was probably asleep by now, but he had the sudden urge to Iris-Message her.

It was probably a stupid idea. He'd ignored her for… well, a while.

Percy frowned. Thinking about it now, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had more than a five-minute conversation with Annabeth. They'd kept missing each other. She would usually call in the middle of planning sessions or when he found time to sleep – or at inconvenient times in general. And then he'd learned about the prophecy and promptly shut out the world.

His eyes went to the glowing numbers on the dashboard. The minutes seemed to pass slowly, as if Kronos had slowed time. He swallowed at the thought and tried to focus. He probably needed to sleep, even if he didn't feel tired – he'd regret it tomorrow. There was a parking lot for some store up ahead; he could park there and sleep for a few hours. They'd be gone before it even opened.

"Right," he said, and the word sounded too loud. It was a plan, though, a bit of a miracle considering who Percy Jackson was.

"Percy," someone hissed, and he turned to his left, away from the voice. A presence hovered above him, and someone's hand grabbed his arm and shook it. He half-heartedly pushed it away. "Percy, get up."

He cracked an eye open, coming face-to-face with the car door. The car door – it took him a few minutes to remember why he was sleeping in the car. The past day's events flooded through his mind. Losing control. Having the terrible, aching need to leave. Going through with it, Grover by his side. Coming here.

"Wh- what time is it?" he mumbled, trying to make sense of things. He turned towards his friend, slowly sitting up. Percy hissed; his back ached, and one of his legs hadn't woken up with the rest of him. He turned to face his friend.

Grover scratched at his chin. "Five something in the morning." Percy groaned. He'd only gotten two hours of sleep at most. He was starting to regret not pulling over earlier – and driving blindly not knowing where he was going.

"Do you know where we are?"

To his surprise, Grover nodded. "I went out a few minutes ago and checked around. There's a gas station down the road; we're in Connecticut, actually."

He blinked, stretching his hands above his head and meeting the car roof. "Oh."

Grover nodded again. "Yeah. I figured I should wake you for a second to figure out where we're going before we switch." He looked much more refreshed than Percy did, though there was still something heavy in the lines of his face.

Percy passed a hand through his hair and tried to think – _tried_ to. "What's in Connecticut?" Grover shrugged.

"Mark Twain House and Museum," he suggested, but Percy was already shaking his head.

"Wasn't that the guy whose book we were supposed to read back when we were at Yancy?" he asked. "You know, the book I never read?"

Grover sighed. "That's the one. So it's a no?"

He didn't have to answer. "Is there anything, like… super cool in Connecticut? Must-see?"

His best friend sighed. "We could go to the Mystic Seaport," he answered slowly, no doubt regretting it as Percy sat up, mind brimming with ideas. A seaport – where better to go than that? Good food was bound to be around there _somewhere_ , ships would come in and out of the docks, and most importantly, the sea would be at his side. It was perfect.

"I'm in," he said, and Grover got out of the door, crossing towards him so he could take over driving. Percy thought he heard Grover mutter something about how he should've never mentioned Mystic, but it was too late. The idea had already settled in his mind.

He slid out of his seat, stopping dead when he got outside. A heavy fog hung in the air, white but translucent. They were like clouds fallen from the sky, shrouding the road and everything in front of them. The entire atmosphere seemed to change before his eyes, the colors around him muted. Pale greens and light greys wove together, bleeding into each other like wet paint. He took a deep breath – the air was crisp and clean.

"Isn't it weird?" Grover asked, stopping next to him. "Seeing it like this? From a whole 'nother perspective?" For a second, the world seemed to swallow the two of them. He suddenly felt small and insignificant. Earth was endless. He'd traveled all over the country, but he'd never stopped to consider how different everything looked compared to back home.

"I'd prefer not to have some random existential crisis, thank you very much," Percy muttered, getting back into the car. "Sleep sounds a lot better."


	3. Chapter 3

**Neverland  
** _achieving elysium_

written for the PJO/HoO mini-bang on tumblr

 _Dear Cho_ : _I have never known anyone in my life who has been so easy to be with. It doesn't matter how long it's been or what our last texts were or if I send you stupid letters at one in the morning - something just_ clicks _when I'm with you._

* * *

 _chapter three_

"For a seaport, this place has really good chicken wings," Percy commented, licking his lips. Grover nodded, though he didn't understand the sentiment. It was too bad most satyrs didn't eat meat. Instead, Grover had gotten a simple vegetarian wrap with every kind of vegetable Percy could think of.

Mystic Seaport was a good place to be, he decided. With the ocean to his left and Grover to his right, things couldn't go wrong – and if they did, he had the ocean on his side.

Percy had never felt more relaxed. The prophecy – for now, at least – was one of the furthest things on his mind. The air tasted like salt and something deeper, an undercurrent of something more. It was great outside; summer was just beginning, but the water kept the heat at bay. This was summer five, he realized with a jolt. The first one he hadn't spent at Camp Half-Blood or off on some crazy quest.

"So," he began, trying to think of a topic. "You and Juniper, huh?"

Grover turned beet red and almost choked on a mix of vegetarian wrap and wrapper. "N-no," he managed to gasp out. "We're… friends."

Percy rolled his eyes. Anyone could tell when Grover was lying – that was how bad he was. He was even worse than Percy at lying, which was saying something. "Friends," he repeated; the very thought of it was ridiculous.

"Well, she- I- we didn't-"

"Sure," Percy drawled, finishing off his last wing and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "except the fact that everyone already knows you're dating. And have been since, what, February?"

A pause. "How'd you know?"

Percy gave him a look. "See? I don't get why you keep it a secret, anyway." Grover sighed.

"The Council… they don't- they don't _like_ Juniper," Grover said, and his expression darkened. They both stopped as Percy threw away his trash, and he stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting for his friend to continue. "She's always been a bit more different, I guess. You wouldn't understand, as a human, but… they just don't like her."

Percy stared incredulously at his friend. "So?" he demanded. Grover shrugged, lips thinning.

"Juniper wanted to hide our relationship – at least for a little bit. She thought that maybe with the whole Lord of the Wild thing, us, uh, dating would get me into a bit of trouble."

"But that happened, like, a _month_ ago."

"We also made it official a month ago," Grover said helplessly. "but it's okay. They're coming around to her, especially now that I'm sticking up for her more. I don't think we'll have to hide it much longer."

Percy hummed and stared at the ground. He scuffed his shoe against the old, washed-out planks of wood, and Grover elbowed him with a sneaky grin on his face.

"What about you and Annabeth, huh?" he teased mercilessly, and Percy flushed. Heat rose to his face, creeping up the back of his neck and across his cheek. He shrugged.

"What about us?" It came out sharper than he'd intended it to.

Grover glanced at him, opening his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He gaped for a second before snapping his mouth shut. "Uh, Percy…"

"Don't tell me we've got a bit of a problem. Or a lot of a problem."

"More of a request than anything, Percy," a voice said from behind him, and Grover paled. He spun around and found a mischievous-looking, fair-haired man, twirling a familiar pen in his hand and carrying a clipboard.

"L-Lord Hermes," Grover stammered, his eyes as wide as saucers.

 _And us,_ George added. _Don't forget us, goat-boy._

 _Oh, be quiet,_ Martha chided, twisting around the pen.

"Uh, hey, Lord Hermes," Percy said, mind scrambling as he looked for answers as to why exactly the god was here. "and George and Martha." It almost came out as a question, but he managed a smile instead.

"What can we do for you, Lord Hermes?" Grover asked, seemingly having recomposed himself.

"Ah," Hermes said, grinning. "Just the question I was waiting for you to ask." _Uh-oh_ , Percy thought. This was going to be interesting at the very least.

 _I'm sorry you two have to go through the trouble,_ Martha hissed, sounding very apologetic. _But it does need to be done._

 _Maybe they'll get some rats on the way back,_ George suggested unhelpfully. _I'd love a rat or two if you could get some!_

"Quiet, you two," Hermes snapped, wrapping his hand tightly around the pen. The two snakes wriggled between his fingers, though, and Percy couldn't help his smile at the sight. "I need another favor. It's very important."

Grover scratched his chin. Percy raised an eyebrow and took the leap. "What exactly do you want us to do now?" He ran a hand through his hair. "We're kind of in the middle of a road trip."

"Oh," Hermes said flippantly, scribbling something on his clipboard. A box appeared out of thin air and began to float behind him, HERMES EXPRESS printed in bold along the side. He snapped his fingers, and the box disappeared with a _pop._ He lowered his clipboard and looked at the two of them, suddenly serious. "It won't interfere with your little journey at all. In fact, it might even move you along." His voice seemed to dip a bit lower near the end, as if he had begun to question himself slightly.

George and Martha stayed quiet for once, curling around their master's fingers. George hissed quietly. "Look, you're planning on going to Massachusetts next, right?"

He and Grover exchanged a look. It hadn't been definite, but there was no real avoiding it now. "Yeah," Grover said for the both of them, and Hermes nodded, expression grave.

"There's a kid," he began. "Geena Lin. She's twelve, Asian, black hair and these pretty brown eyes, gets them from her mom. I need you to get her to Camp Half-Blood as soon as possible – or if you can't, find someone who can."

"She's yours, then."

The color seemed to drain from the day, the scene around them becoming bleak and desolate. There was no vibrancy in Hermes' eyes, either – only desperation. "I just want her to be somewhere safe."

Percy could see the unspoken words written in the lines on the gods' face. _Don't let her end up like Luke._

Grover recovered first. "Right. Um, is there an address we can go to, somewhere we can find her…?"

Hermes nodded and ripped off a piece of notebook paper from his clipboard. He held it out, and Percy took it, squinting at the letters. He had _no_ idea what the words said, but Grover seemed to understand it. He'd ask later.

"We'll get her home," Percy promised, his voice wavering on the word _home._ Home – at Camp Half-Blood with its sweet-smelling strawberry fields and close-knit campers, a ragtag group of scattered cabins and the sun warm on upturned faces. There was nowhere quite like it.

"Home," Hermes echoed, eyes lightening. The color seeped back into the world. He snapped his fingers. "Thank you, you two. Now, Zeus – well, Athena, really, we all know it was her idea – wanted something to be sent to Iris… what was it?"

 _The message for help,_ Martha reminded him. _You know, to ask her to keep a watch over transmitted Iris Messages and over some of the other stuff in general._

Hermes frowned. "Ah, yes," he muttered distractedly, no longer paying attention to Percy and Grover.

 _Bye, Percy, Grover,_ George called. _Bring us back some rats!_

 _Honestly, is that all you think about?_ Martha spat out, looking about as angry as a small snake on a pen could. _Anyway, good luck. Bye!_

There was a crack as Hermes turned on his heel, muttering to himself, and he vanished. Percy looked at Grover then back down at his chicken wings regretfully. "Looks like we do have a destination," he commented. Grover still looked pale. He brayed mournfully and tore into the aluminum wrapper of his lunch.

"We'd better get a move on, then."

Percy cast a long look over the seaport. He'd miss this place, miss standing near the ocean and drawing from its silent strength, seeing the seagulls fight over a piece of bread. He'd miss the smell of the sea and the lively docks and spending time strolling with his friend, crashing tourist shops and trying on ridiculous-looking clothing.

But there were other places to be, he supposed. Other things to do, and staying here wasn't one of them. So Percy just sighed, finished off his chicken wings, and raced Grover to the car.

"Boston, Massachusetts," Percy said sometime later, frowning. "Home of the Red Sox."

Grover rolled his eyes. "Out of all the things you can think of about Boston, it's the Red Sox?"

He threw his hands in the air. "Well, I don't like them!"

"At least they're better than the Yankees," Grover defended, and Percy put a hand over his heart, pasting a wounded expression on his face. Grover snorted.

"But Grover," he cried dramatically, throwing his arms out. A few people gave him weird looks and ducked under his long arms. "The Yankees have saved our lives… or their merchandise, at least."

"New Yorkers," someone grumbled next to them. "No sense of rationality, honestly."

They continued down the street, Percy making snide comments about the Red Sox and Grover pointing out a few more memorable sites in Boston. Percy only half-paid attention; he could feel water near where they were, calling to him.

"So, uh, where are we supposed to go again?" he asked distractedly, soaking in the sights around him. Some of the buildings were old, much older than he'd originally thought they'd be. He thought of Annabeth staring at the architecture, babbling about this and that. Percy had the sudden urge to snap a few pictures for her.

Grover rattled off an address that Percy did not recognize at all. They'd have to find a map or otherwise ask around – though the idea wasn't preferable. His accent was a dead giveaway of where he'd come from, though it was rather faint.

"We better start looking, then," Grover said, frowning. "Boston is _huge._ "

"It can't be _that_ bad." Percy shrugged, adjusting his shirt. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Remind me why I'm doing this again?" he asked, trying not to look down. It didn't work. The ground was rather far away – well, far away enough that he'd flatten into a Percy-sized pancake if he fell.

"It's just like the rock wall," Grover called, waiting for him on the balcony.

"Right," Percy muttered, sliding from the edge of one windowsill to the other. "Just like the climbing wall. The deadly, lava-spewing rock wall."

Grover moved so Percy could clamber over the railing, his muscles screaming in protest. He gripped the handrailing and tumbled over, pain jolting up his foot as he landed wrong.

"See," Grover said. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"

Percy looked at the ground and shuddered. "Remind me why we had to climb up the side of an apartment building," he hissed. "because that was not fun at all."

"There's monsters in the lobby," he explained, as if that had been the most obvious thing in the world. It hadn't been. They'd been about to walk in when Grover began to drag him away, saying they couldn't risk going through the front.

Unfortunately for Percy, this meant they had to go up.

"You couldn't have told me this earlier," he deadpanned, moving past Grover to inspect the double doors. They probably weren't locked if there was someone home; no one expected people to be climbing up on the balconies. It was too bad they had.

Sure enough, the balcony doors were unlocked. The two of them glanced at each other, mood sobering. It wasn't every day they could barge in on someone's home and then spring that _surprise, the Greek gods are real._

The room was a large one. A huge, comfortable-looking bed was dead-center. Nearby, pictures were tacked on the wall over a desk that was piled with little trinkets, but what caught his eye was the far wall completely covered with maps.

"You don't think we could take one or two of those maps?" Grover asked, inspecting them. Percy grinned.

"Going for irony, are we?"

They traipsed out of the bedroom – Geena's, it seemed – and walked straight into a kitchen. Percy froze. He hadn't actually thought about _what_ they were going to do after walking into a complete stranger's home.

An Asian woman stood at the counter, measuring out ground coffee. "Ah," she said, turning, not even looking remotely surprised to see them. He blinked. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Uh, Ms. Lin," he said, feeling awkward. "I didn't – er, I didn't know that _you_ knew that we were going to come." She pressed start on her coffee-machine and turned to look at them.

"Well," she began slowly, glancing over to the side where a young girl was sitting, silent, her dark eyes wide. She stared at him, then at Grover, whose horns curled up slightly out of his hair. "Someone had to come. The monsters downstairs are getting a little out of hand."

She gestured at the front door, and Percy frowned, squinting. Then he realized that the door was only half there, fissures in it so deep he could see through them.

"Oh."

"She's a little young," Ms. Lin explained, pointing at her daughter. "Geena, come here." The girl did so dutifully, but the way she looked at them made Percy sure that she didn't trust them – which wasn't surprising at all.

"Mom," the girl began, pointing a long finger at them. "You've got to be-"

"I am not joking, Geena," Ms. Lin snapped, her eyes flashing. "Remember what I told you?" Her voice was sharp and unforgiving; for a second, it looked like Geena was going to protest, but her shoulders slumped just a margin.

"Yeah, Mom," she muttered.

"Hey, uh, sorry for breaking in," Grover said. "Didn't mean to."

Ms. Lin waved her hand dismissively. "I was planning on moving out, anyway. Boston's not the best place for people like us."

There was an unearthly shriek from somewhere in the building, and though their host didn't react, she stiffened noticeably. Percy and Grover exchanged panicked looks. The monsters had probably sensed them by now – with two demigods and a satyr, they were kind of hard to miss.

"Grover," he said lowly, Riptide already springing to its full size in his hand.

"You need to come with me, Geena," he heard Grover say, but he moved closer to the door. He was going to be the distraction – but only long enough for Grover to get Geena out of there. After that, they'd make a break for it.

And then a harpy burst through the door, screeching. Percy didn't even think; his sword cut clean through the harpy, and it crumbled to dust. There was a loud rumbling that sounded suspiciously like thunder, but Percy knew it was the sound of footsteps. A lot of them.

He ran out of the apartment, whispered a prayer to whoever was watching over him, and went straight in the direction his gut told him not to go, towards the stairwell. He stopped at the top and spotted a hoard of ugly monsters charging up towards him.

"The ssson of Posseidon," a _dracenae_ hissed, and she lifted her spear. Percy cursed and dove to the side a second before she threw it. He had to get back _down_ the stairs, leading them away from the apartment. "Get him!"

A telkhine jumped, landing right next to him. "Fuck," Percy ground out, blowing a blow with Riptide. It had come farther than he'd thought it could, but then again, so had the rest of the monsters, who began to swarm him.

He swept in a circle and tried very, very hard not to die.

Minutes later, Percy was running through the streets, looking for the unmistakable Prius that would be his getaway vehicle. It was unmistakable to _him_ , at least – he'd been living out of it for a week. He didn't see it, though, so Percy ran for the next-best thing: the bridge.

He had no idea what bridge it was, but it seemed impressive. A giant rendezvous point; Grover knew that Percy would head there, for the water. A last resort.

He darted across the street at the last second, cars honking loudly as his time ran out. "Sorry," he called, but he was too preoccupied trying to think. Percy passed a bunch of metal ducks and almost doubled back to look at them, but he stopped himself. Apparently, Boston had weird sculptures lying around.

He headed straight for the bridge. "Longfellow Bridge," Percy said to himself, somehow managing to read one of the signs after a minute of staring at it. True to its name, Longfellow Bridge was a pretty long one, a stretch of metal and cement. Cars drove back and forth on it, and he spotted a pedestrian walkway to the side.

Well, he'd have to try not to blow this one up, then.

"Perseus Jackson," a voice bellowed, and he muttered a few choice words in Greek before running for it. No one _ever_ called him Perseus… unless he was in _big_ trouble. He looked around desperately for a place to hide and ran for the water.

People walking by the river gave him strange looks as he passed, the sword in his hand blurring as he did. He looked back, then wished he hadn't; the monsters were gaining on him. He wasn't enough of a match to face them, he knew – and it was stupid to try anyway, right in the middle of the city.

"Hey, kid," someone called, and he stared as two men waved at him from underneath the bridge. It was kind of hard to trust homeless people under bridges, but he had nowhere else to hide now.

Percy sprinted towards them and almost tripped over his feet, panting as he squatted down, trying to catch his breath. The two men – one quite a bit shorter than the other – looked over him.

They didn't seem quite _human_ , Percy realized with a jolt, and they'd known he was running from the monsters. Or at least that was what it felt like.

"You probably can't hide here long," one of them said, shrugging and adjusting his coat, the ends ratty and torn. The other shifted and adjusted a brightly-colored scarf before making quick motions with his hands, his fingers dancing. American Sign Language, Percy realized. ASL.

"Ah… right," the man said, grinning. "but they don't like us very much." He nudged his friend, gesturing at the sunlight. A signal to keep watch, Percy guessed. The tall, fair-haired man rolled his eyes but went out anyway, something sparkling in his eyes.

"Look, man," Percy said. "I don't want you to get hurt or something, but, uh… thanks for letting me hide here for a bit." He glanced from underneath Longfellow Bridge, just in time to see a blue Prius waiting at where the land crested downward gently. A _familiar_ blue Prius.

"Uh, yeah, bye!" he called, already leaving. "Thanks. Maybe I'll come find you again sometime!" Then he ran for the top of the hill and didn't look back.

"Go, go, go, _go_!" Percy yelled the minute he threw open the car door, jumping in the backseat awkwardly and pulling the door closed behind him. "We gotta get out of here before they find us again."

"Right," Grover said, flooring the car. He looked at the girl next to him, clinging to her seat as if her life depended on it. The Prius lurched forward, and he grabbed his seat belt, trying not to go flying. That was _never_ fun. Or safe.

"Always buckle up, kid," he told the daughter of Hermes. "You're gonna be in for some wild rides from now on."

"Was that a metaphor?" she asked, and Grover's eyes flashed towards the rearview mirror. He was clenching the driver's wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white; that wasn't a good sign. _Do not panic._

"I dunno, maybe," Percy joked, even as his stomach bubbled with fear. They were probably being chased. He had the crazy idea of opening the car door and leaning out of the car, weapon in hand, like he was in some sort of old-fashioned crime movie, but he stopped himself. He was going insane.

"Where are we going?" the girl asked him after a beat.

He didn't have an answer. Didn't know. "Out," he said shortly. "Somewhere you'll be safe. Where someone can watch you, protect you. Just so happens that it's not here."

"My mom-"

"She'll be fine," Percy ground out, tense. He forced himself to relax, to smile at Geena. "Really. Please, you have to trust us, Geena. I know we just met, but we're your friends, I promise. And monsters, well… they don't like bothering with mortals."

"But _I_ …"

"You're mortal, all right," Grover said before he could explain. "but you have ichor running through your veins. The blood of the gods. A Hermes kid – Luke would like _that._ "

As they sped on Longfellow Bridge, weaving between cars as if they were being chased by the police (except worse), the waters below it began to churn, responding to his anger. He gritted his teeth. _Luke._

He'd liked the guy once. They'd been friends – or as close to friends as they could get. He still remembered the crushing feeling of betrayal, the shadow that had passed over Luke's face when they'd talked in the woods in summer one, the words he'd spat out so angrily.

"Who's Luke?" Geena asked, and Percy dug his nails into his palms, remembering the last time he'd lost control – how the glass of water had exploded. He took a deep breath and thought of good things, like the crackling of a bright gold campfire and the taste of s'mores, or Annabeth's smile, the way her lips would part with a flash of white teeth.

Grover answered. "He's… your half-brother. Another son of Hermes."

She was silent for a moment. "You don't seem to like him," she noted, and Percy snorted.

"Not everyone agrees with the gods, see," he started, biting at the inside of his cheek. "or, well, likes them, I guess."

"Why not?"

They were beginning to tread on dangerous waters now, but Percy had had plenty of experience with that. "The gods are gods, Geena," he began, frowning. "You have to understand that they're immortal and that they're _powerful._ They have all these rules set in place – including not interfering. If they take sides or spend too much time with us… look at all the damage they could cause. The last time this happened, it was World War II."

"Oh," Geena squeaked, and he nodded solemnly.

"But it also means they don't get to spend much time around their kids," he said, thinking of his dad. Poseidon was one of the better parents; compared to some of his friends, Percy had seen his dad a _lot_ more – even if it'd only been three or four times. "They can't do all the normal things parents do, you know, going to basketball games or picking you up after school or whatever. And so some people – like your half-brother, Luke… they resent the gods for that."

"For not being there."

"Yeah." Percy let out a breath and looked at the river. "For not caring enough. For not caring while their children bleed out and die for them." He shook his head, swallowing hard. Summer four, last summer…

"Percy," Grover said sharply, and he locked up the thoughts, hiding them in the corners of his mind so he wouldn't have to think about it. People had died that summer, kids he'd known, friends – all for this. Some of them for _him._ The thought made him sick. " _Percy._ "

"There's a war going on right now," he said, voice flat, the words tumbling from his mouth like water breaking past a dam. "It's not safe. The gods have pretty much disappeared trying to prepare."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, though the sky was clear. He fell silent, knowing he'd gone too far. He didn't want to talk about war – especially not to someone so new to the mythological world – but he couldn't stop himself.

"What about me? Do I have to- to fight?" Geena asked, but Percy shook his head.

"We'll get you to Camp Half-Blood. Don't worry about it; we're not going to let young or inexperienced demigods fight at all."

They lapsed into silence, something Percy both enjoyed and hated. Geena looked like she wanted to speak but struggled to, opening her mouth every now and then only to snap it shut. It was a lot to process, but it looked like her mom had told her _something_ about being a demigod.

Eventually Grover suggested that the two of them get some shuteye. There was nothing else to do, as they'd been complete strangers only a few hours ago, and Geena fell asleep immediately, curling up on her side of the car.

Percy didn't bother. He'd probably start dreaming again; he wasn't tired, anyway.

"I met the weirdest people today," he started, and Grover raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror. "like, while I was hiding under a bridge."

"Don't even talk about it," Grover teased, and Percy cracked a grin. "I don't even want to ask how you ended up underneath a bridge."

"Don't act like you haven't done worse," Percy said, gesturing widely with an arm. "because you have."

"Really?"

He had to think about it for a moment, though it didn't take long. "Remember summer two?"

"No," Grover said immediately, turning a red Percy had never seen on him before. "Absolutely not. I don't even remember summer two."

"I guess I'll have to remind you, then," he said, grinning. His heart seemed to lift slightly, if only for a moment. "Yeah, I remember it really clearly. You got this really nice wedding dress; it was kinda white and lacy, and there were-"

"Gods help me," Grover prayed.

"-flowers on it, these little white buds-"

"Percy, if you don't shut up, I'm going to drive this car into a tree or something."

He picked at his fingernails. "Well, the problem is, Grover – this isn't your car. If you crash it, you have to pay for it."

"But it would be _your_ fault."

"You're the one driving!"

"So?" Grover asked, bleating laughter. "Percy, you have a _criminal record._ You blew up a national monument, had the authorities looking for you in a nationwide manhunt, and apparently was insane and attacked quite a few people – when you were _twelve._ "

The corner of his lips tugged up. "Yeah," he agreed, letting the fire of the fight die a little. "but you and Annabeth were there with me every step of the way."

A moment for the both of them as they remembered summer one – becoming best friends and really learning what it was like, standing up for each other. Working as a team, something Annabeth wasn't too fond of. Fighting for what he believed in, something Grover found difficult. And as for himself… he'd learned about sacrifice, about being brave and embracing himself.

Then the moment seemed to pass. "We weren't there when you _blew up a national monument_ ," Grover told him, and Percy pretended to bang his head against the back of the driver's seat.

"Will you ever drop it? I was trying to protect these innocent mortals, okay?"

"And then you jumped from… how many feet did Annabeth say it was again? Fifty thousand or something?"

"At least I was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans," he said. _And dying_ , he added silently, but that was more of a minor detail. "Unlike you, Miss Beautiful Cyclopes."

They spent the next hour poking fun at each other, dragging up almost-forgotten memories of the worst kind, trying to outdo the other in terms of most embarrassing situation. Percy recounted all the times he'd been kicked out of school – which was a _lot_ – starting from the legendary tale of the Saratoga cannon blowing up the bus to accidentally dropping his entire third grade class into a tank full of sharks.

Every now and then, Percy's mind would drift back to what he'd told Geena about the gods – nothing less than the truth, but it hadn't been a happy one. He wondered if Luke was the reason why Hermes had wanted to get her to camp besides the obvious. That maybe, just maybe, the god was scared he'd lose another child to the other side.

She wasn't going anywhere near Luke, though, or any monsters, Percy thought, glancing back at the small girl sprawled in the backseat. A gift. A blessing, to shelter her from the world for just a little longer. He wouldn't let her – she was only a child, after all.

But in a way, so was he.


	4. Chapter 4

**Neverland**  
 _achieving elysium_  
written for the PJO/HoO mini-band on tumblr

 _Dear Cho : It's too bad I can't be cheesy and say that when I look up at the stars, I feel reassured knowing that you would be looking at the same night sky or something... because admit it, we can't see no stars. Besides, you're brighter than any of them. _

* * *

"We _need_ to come back here sometime," Percy mumbled, the words distorted and muffled by the food in his mouth. Geena gave him her best grossed-out look, and he almost choked on the bit of pancake he'd stuffed in his mouth; she looked _exactly_ like Annabeth, from the arched eyebrows to the _are-you-serious_ look in her eye. He coughed and took a swig of water.

"And their cups are environmentally friendly," his friend commented, holding one up as if waiting for a toast. Percy grabbed his own, filled to the brim with strong black coffee, and they tapped their cups together.

"I'm going to be _so_ relieved when I leave you guys," Geena told them, but Percy was in a good mood. The daughter of Hermes seemed more relaxed, too, after yesterday. They'd had some fun last night, with nothing else to do on the car but talk and play stupid games – and the three had loosened up around each other a little, going from complete strangers to less-than-strangers.

Then again, it _had_ been 3:00 AM in the morning, he thought. At that early, everyone was bound to do something that otherwise seemed ridiculous, things that would never be done while he was still sane.

Not that he _was_ fully sane, anyway.

"Mmm," Percy sighed, slumping slightly in the booth. He'd always loved pancakes, and while these weren't as good as Mom's (nothing was), they were _delicious,_ chunks of gooey chocolate melting in his mouth. "Definitely coming back."

Geena sipped at her tea – apparently not one for coffee, claiming she hated the bitter taste. He loved coffee, though. He bounced slightly in his seat, in a good mood; his body thrummed with energy, the caffeine working its way into his system.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" their waiter asked, and there was an edge to his voice. "More coffee or tea? Another stack of pancakes?"

Percy made a face, looking down at his quickly-disappearing pancakes with a stab of regret. "Might have to get some later."

"How much can you _eat_?" Geena hissed in half-surprise, half-horror. "You've eaten, like, seven!"

"Four," Grover corrected. "I took one of his."

"You can have another one," Percy offered, standing up and tugging his jeans up. "Hey, um, where's the bathroom?"

The waiter's – Dave – eyes flickered, and he pointed towards a hallway in the back of the diner. "Go down that hallway, and bathroom's the last door."

Percy nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Thanks."

He felt like there was something missing, but Percy shrugged it off. He only needed a second, a second to escape from the busy diner and take a moment to breathe. He cast an eye around the small roadside diner as he walked. The entire diner was bright and homey, the walls an almost gold-like color. People chatted quietly as they ate, and a pair of young children ran around chasing each other.

He found the bathroom and stepped in. It was a stark contrast from the bright diner. It was small and dingy, the lights casting a blue-green glow. He stared at himself in the mirror hanging above the sink and walked over, turning the taps. They squealed as the water began running, and Percy ducked his head down and splashed some water over his face.

When he straightened, there was someone behind him, figure dark, though he figured it was probably the lighting.

"Uh, sorry," he said, stepping to the side – there was only one sink.

"I've been searching for you, Percy Jackson." A flash, and then Percy was staggering back against the wall, his vision filled with brightly-colored stars. In front of him loomed a dark shadow, features blurred – not enough to keep him from seeing a pair of glowing green eyes and a razor-sharp smile.

He reached for Riptide, struggling to think. "Don't think I've ever met you before," he managed to say, and Lamia smiled.

"Are you sure?" she crooned, and scaly fingers wrapped around his throat. She slammed him against the tile wall until the previously-unmoving ceiling began to spin in circles above his head. "I think you have."

A faint memory of the two of them fighting, though it hadn't lasted very long. "You're uglier than I remember," he gasped, fumbling for his pen. His fingers found nothing but dryer lint and empty space.

Lamia smiled as dread began to make its presence known. "Looking for this?" she asked, dangling Riptide from her fingers. She uncapped it, and three feet of deadly Celestial Bronze sprang from the pen.

"Shit," Percy hissed, and he dove to the side just as the blade swung, biting into the tile wall behind him. He rolled to the side again as she struck again, his head aching. She'd hit him hard earlier when he hadn't been paying attention, and now he was paying the price.

"How ironic it would be, to be killed by your own weapon."

He _had_ to get his sword back.

So Percy acted without thinking like he always did and did one of the most stupid things he'd ever done: he tackled Lamia.

It wasn't like tackling his friends in a big bear hug after a year of not seeing them. His tackle was hard and fast, more like if he was a football player – minus the muscles, the shoulder pads, and the girlfriend. Definitely minus the girlfriend.

She let out a scream that was higher that any that of any opera singers' highest notes; he was surprised when the mirror didn't crack. It _did_ crack when the two of them fell towards it, Lamia roaring something in half-Latin, half-Greek as he grabbed for the sword. He caught the words _death_ and _destruction_ somewhere in there.

Lamia was a daughter of Hecate, if he remembered correctly thanks to Annabeth and Chiron both pounding mythology in his head. And that meant that if she finished saying whatever she started, he was doomed.

Then again, he could be completely wrong – there were tons of monsters in the world, and pretty much _all_ of them had some sort of tragic, complicated backstory. It was hard enough to remember all of the gods, let alone who was who.

"You know," Percy ground out conversationally. "attacking other people isn't very nice."

He followed this statement up by grabbing her wrist and slamming it hard against the sink. She let go of the sword but retaliated, jumping at him in a mess of fangs and loud hissing. Her eyes glowed ominously, and he fell back as all the feeling in his left leg disappeared. It had turned numb and heavy – useless. She'd rendered him immobile.

"Out of all the things you choose to do, you choose this?" Percy asked, dodging a swipe of the claws. She caught the edge of his arm, and warmth rushed to the wound. He hissed in pain, ADHD working overtime. He kept his eyes on Lamia, but his brain absorbed all that was happening – the feeling creeping back into his limb and where Riptide was lying, only a few feet away.

Percy felt a tug in his gut, and his hand curled slightly as water exploded out of the plumbing. He clenched his fist, and Lamia went flying, the force of the water too much.

"It's too bad you're only fifteen," Lamia growled, eyes burning with anger as she stood shakily, water dripping from her body and pooling on the ground. "You're going to die today."

"The only thing dying today is you," Grover yelled, and a cup of hot, steaming coffee hit Lamia right in the face. A double attack. If he hadn't been trying so hard not to die, he would've laughed.

Geena pressed herself against the wall and stared, wide-eyed, at the wailing Lamia. She made a half-shocked, half-scared noise as Percy reached Riptide, the hilt of the sword settling comfortably in his grip. Meanwhile, Lamia had recovered and was chanting something under her breath. A dark, heavy-looking mist appeared and crept across the ground; Percy jerked backwards and away from it as Lamia clawed at him again.

His injured arm burned, but his heart pounded as he swung the sword up and up, curving in a deadly arc as it cut past flesh and bone and green scales. She disappeared alongside the mist, and he sagged back on his forearms, gasping.

"What- what _was_ that?" Geena asked, but Grover only knelt next to Percy.

"Thanks, man," he told his friend. "You saved me from being turned into a demi-kabob."

"Hand?" Grover asked, and Percy took Grover's outstretched hand. The satyr slipped an arm around his shoulders and supported him as he staggered, leaning heavily to the right.

"Than-" he began, but a racing pain shot up his left leg, fire licking through his veins. Riptide clattered as it hit the floor, and he heard Geena cry out when he stumbled again, body jerking in pain.

It was like anesthesia, the numbness before it wore off, leaving him in pain. He gritted his teeth and let out a breath, cursing Lamia in his head. She needed to go away and never come back.

"Dammit, Percy," Grover swore under his breath, grabbing him tightly as his knees buckled and gave out from underneath him. "Why is it always you?"

"That's what _I_ was thinking," he groaned. "It's always me."

Grover's eyebrows came together at a point as he thought quickly; keeping Percy up as he fought against the pain, he looked over his shoulder at the concerned girl hovering behind them, hands over her mouth. She was breathing heavily, and he struggled to stand.

"Geena," he said, and his voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again, voice coming out stronger. "Geena, calm down."

She shook her head, shivering. "Geena," he called again. "Do you trust me?" Dark brown eyes met his own, and a slow nod followed. Good.

"Yes," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can you go back to the dining area and get a bag of ambrosia?" Grover asked, his own voice smooth and reassuring, though his eyes and tensed muscles betrayed him. "The golden stuff – they look like lemon bars." Geena nodded, taking a deep breath and stumbling over to the door.

"Now what?" Percy asked, water seeping through his clothes. He willed himself dry with the flick of a wrist, his clothes drying within seconds. He repeated the action, and water zoomed across the floor, disappearing with a small gesture.

"I hope they don't mind," Grover said, staring at the half-broken sink. "Maybe we should leave before anyone notices, right?"

Percy laughed, stretching his arms upwards. His forearm gave a twinge of pain, and he winced as more blood gushed out of the wound. He'd forgotten about the cut on his arm, actually, but the adrenaline had begun to wear off - leaving Percy dead tired and aching all over.

"Can't we use the Mist?" he asked, and Grover shrugged.

"Do you have enough control over it?" he replied, and Percy thought about it.

"Well, don't you?"

Grover shook his head. "That's not my area of expertise and you know it, Percy," he warned, and he remembered a time Grover's lack of control had led to a rather, well... disastrous situation. It'd ended in them being kicked out of a restaurant, covered head-to-toe in half-eaten spaghetti.

"Well, I'm not too good at it, either," he admitted. "Chiron didn't teach me a lot about it like he taught Thalia."

"Too bad she's not here, huh?" Percy laughed.

"The one time we actually want her here, am I right?" They both laughed at their friend's extent, though they didn't really mean it. Thalia and Percy weren't always the best together - they tended to get a little destructive if rubbed the wrong way, but they were pretty tight. Or, at least as tight as cousins who saw each other in person maybe once or twice every few months could be. But then again, being demigods tended to form bonds a _lot_ faster.

"I'm here," Geena said quietly, slipping into the bathroom. She looked like she'd calmed down a bit. He grimaced; monsters were _always_ the worst wake-up calls. "I brought the... ambrosia?"

"Thank the gods," Percy sighed as Grover broke off a piece and handed it to him. He chewed and swallowed, relaxing as the taste of homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies burst on his tongue - no matter what happened, Mom's cookies were always the best.

He could feel the pain disappear from his leg, and the blood flowing freely from his arm slowed as his skin began to knit itself back together. He scrambled up, his body adjusting as it healed.

Percy glanced at the broken sink and the smashed mirror hanging above it. The light flickered, and he prayed to the gods that they wouldn't get into more trouble than they'd just been in.

"Let's pretend that didn't happen," he said, bending over to scoop up Riptide and capping it, the sword shrinking into a ballpoint pen. Geena stared incredulously as he stuck it in his pocket, inspecting himself for damage. He didn't look too bad, he decided, picking at half-dried blood. Not a lot of people would care, actually - they'd rather look away.

"Right," Geena said, sounding like she was being strangled. "Right. Okay."

"Back to breakfast, then," Grover said cheerfully, ready to finish eating. He shrugged, and the three of them filed out of the men's bathrooms as if this was all perfectly normal.

There was a man sitting in the booth where they'd been, patiently waiting for them. "Ah, took you long enough," he said, scribbling something on a napkin in dark ink.

 _Good to see you're still alive, Percy!_ Martha cried. _Grover, too! Oh, is that Geena?_

The snake twisted upwards, and dark eyes gleamed as she looked at the twelve-year old who was staring at the moving, hissing snakes attached to a pen.

 _She's a cute one, your kid, though she doesn't look like you at all, Hermes,_ George said, interested. _She looks more like… an Apollo kid, maybe._

"An _Apollo_ kid?" Hermes asked, shaking the pen in his fist. "Are you kidding me, George?"

"Oh," Geena said, staring at her dad. Something seemed to click and make sense to her, a missing piece falling into place. " _Oh._ "

Hermes smiled. "Hey, kid," he said, and there was something on his face that Percy had never seen before, a feeling written there that he didn't quite understand. It was a dad thing, probably - he'd seen it a few times on Poseidon's face, though he wasn't sure what it meant.

"So you're... you're my dad," Geena said, and Grover nudged Percy. He gave Percy the look, like: _hey, let's give them a moment_.

Percy nodded. He didn't want to stick around, anyway, not to see this. They walked over to an empty corner near the door, trying to stay out of the way as Geena talked to her dad for what was probably the first time in her life.

"A diner of all places," Percy said, staring at the two. Geena looked upset at her dad, her face twisted and contorted with what looked like anger. He knew the feeling; it didn't surprise him one bit that Geena was mad. He'd be even more surprised if she hadn't been – after all, they were demigods.

"So, wanna guess what they're talking about?" Percy asked.

Grover rolled his eyes. "They're probably talking about what the demigod and the parent usually talk about, you know? The whole 'why weren't you here?' part and then the 'what about my life?' thing."

"I hate that I get what you mean when you say that," Percy mumbled finally, leaning back against the wall. Without thinking, he drew Riptide again and began to twirl it between his fingers. "I hate that Luke is right – to an extent."

Thunder rumbled outside, and his lips thinned into a flat line. As if he'd heard it, too, Hermes looked up, his blue eyes meeting Percy's from across the diner. Percy stared back, unflinching; he wasn't about to give in. The room seemed to descend into a thick tension. He stiffened slight against the wall, and Grover put a hand on his arm.

Then the god's attention turned back to his daughter, and Percy relaxed.

"You know I'm right," he defended himself fiercely, and Grover nodded.

"I know, Percy," he said. "Just be… careful about what you say. One day it'll get you killed."

He grinned despite himself. "That's why you're here," he joked. "Otherwise, I would've been dead a long, long time ago."

"What, is Annabeth chopped liver now?" Grover asked, and for some reason, that made Percy laugh.

"Nah," he replied. "Annabeth provides brainpower _and_ she saves our butts all the time."

"True," Grover said, and he turned in Hermes' direction. "I think those two are done conversing." Percy looked over; it did seem like Geena and her dad were finished talking.

"That's our cue, then," Percy noted as Hermes stood, offering a hand to his daughter. They walked together, and Hermes nodded at them in acknowledgement.

"I'll leave you two to your breakfast," he told them once they'd stepped into earshot. "I'll take Geena to Camp Half-Blood." A rush of relief, followed by a wave of confusion.

"But… you can't-" he started.

"-interfere with-" Grover tried to finish. Hermes waved them both off.

"Times have changed, Percy, Grover," he said, and he sounded his age for a moment, thousands upon thousands of years old, centuries spent watching the world change around him. "I will not lose another child."

Percy swallowed back the bitter taste that rose in his mouth. "Yeah."

Hermes gave them a sharp nod and tossed a small backpack onto the table. "Something to help you," he explained, seeing Grover's curious look. "And here, Percy–"

He paused and dug through his pockets, searching for something.

If Martha could roll her eyes, she would've. _It's in your messenger bag, Hermes,_ she complained. _In the front pocket._

 _Right next to our next meal,_ George added. _And a few pencils._

"Yeah, yeah," Hermes muttered, digging through the bag at his side and finding an envelope. It was small and blue, with one corner half-folded. He smoothed it out and held it up to the light, squinting at the writing on the front. "Ah, yes."

"Uh, Lord Hermes?" Percy prompted.

"Here," Hermes said, pursing his lips in thought. He handed Percy the small envelope, and he ran his fingers over it. It seemed familiar.

"It's a letter. For you."

"Oh," Percy said, already distracted. "Thanks."

Hermes winked. "I'm the messenger god, Percy. Gotta do my job."

"Are you leaving?" Grover asked. "Is that about it?"

Hermes nodded, lifting a hand in a goodbye. "Hope to see you again," he said gravely, putting a hand on Geena's shoulder. Then he disappeared in a brilliant flash of light, the two people gone before he even knew it.

"So what's the letter? Who's it from?" Grover asked as they sat back down, Percy shoving Hermes' backpack out of the way. He flipped it over to the front, biting his lip. There was no sender - in fact, there was nothing written on the envelope itself. He shrugged. Hermes wouldn't trick him, not like this, and if he had, then it probably wouldn't kill him.

Probably.

"I... have no idea," Percy said haltingly. "I guess we'll just have to find out, right?"

He grabbed one of the knives sitting around on the table and slid it under the flap, ripping the top open. Inside was a slightly crumpled-looking paper; he took it out and opened it.

"Oh," he muttered, a memory dawning on him. "I know what this is."

"What?" Grover asked, and Percy scanned over the messily-written letter, smiling to himself.

"It's a letter," he started, and Grover faceplanted into the table dramatically.

"No, Percy," he drawled, lifting his head from its position on the table. "but what is it?"

"It's a letter to me... from me."

His friend didn't say anything for a while, choosing to stare at him blankly. He ran a critical eye over the letter and read through parts of it. A few phrases seemed to pop out of the paper: remember... don't give up... hope...

"From you," Grover said.

"From me," he repeated. "I totally didn't just tell you that, Grover."

He sighed. "I don't understand," Grover elaborated, running a hand through thick, curly hair and momentarily exposing the horns that spiralled upwards from his head. "You wrote a letter to yourself?"

Percy nodded. "It was... an assignment, I think," he explained. "in fifth grade, I think?"

He set the letter down before continuing, resting his chin in his hands. "We were supposed to write these letters to our future selves and put a date on the envelope. When that day would come, we would open it to see what our younger selves had written. Make sense?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't know why, but I loved it," he confessed. "I remember finishing the letter and feeling like... like I was doing something for my future. Like even if I was kicked out of school again or Mom lost her job or Gabe-" he cut himself off, wincing. "even if bad things happened, the letters would stay the same. So I kept doing it. I kept writing myself letters - especially once I learned about my, uh, demigodishness... so I wouldn't forget any of it."

He swallowed and met Grover's eyes, a familiar dark brown. "I wrote this last summer. Summer four. When I left from the fireworks show early even though there were the three of us?"

"So _that_ was why you ran off." Grover snapped his fingers in understanding. "Why didn't you tell us about it?"

Percy picked at the edge of the table and sucked on his teeth. "It wasn't something I wanted to share at the time," he clarified. "You... you can read it now, if you'd like."

"You sure?" Because even though Grover could read his emotions, even if they'd been best friends for years and years and knew each other as well as they knew the backs of their hands, there were some things they'd never understand about each other. Giving Grover this letter would be like giving him an insight into his mind, a window to the soul. A letter, made of nothing but words written in dark ink.

He swallowed. "Yeah." He held the letter towards Grover before he could think twice. "Go ahead."

" _Dear Percy_ ," Grover read, and then he laughed. " _or... me, I guess_."

" _If you're reading this, I guess you're still alive. That's good. Living is always a good thing to be - a demigod, not so much._

 _I'm scribbling this after the fireworks show in the dark; I think Grover and Annabeth are a little bit mad I ditched them, but I'll rejoin them at the campfire. We have time, the three of us - don't forget that. We've got forever - we are forever. Our bodies are mortal, I guess - but that friendship is immortal._

 _I hope you haven't lost faith in yourself. I hope you're okay - hope you're still holding on. Don't let go quite yet - you still have a future in front of you. Please don't give it up, me. You. Whatever. There are so many things worth living for._

 _I don't know what I'm writing right now. You're probably laughing while you read this; it's a mess. I think this letter's going to be a reminder, though. Stuff Mom used to tell me. Keep your head up. You're alright. You've got your friends and your family. All those summers weren't for nothing._

 _I gotta go…_ " Grover's voice faded as he finished reading the last few lines, but Percy didn't need to hear them. He'd memorized those words, etched into his brain like the way he'd scribbled them onto paper, as hard as that letter had been to write.

"You wrote this," Grover said softly, folding it back up carefully and picking up the envelope.

"Yeah," Percy heard himself say, and his voice cracked. "I wanted to write that one so I wouldn't forget what…" He chewed on his lip in thought, words tapering off. There was a reason Hermes had given him the letter, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

"What?"

He started, fingers dragging across the table surface. "Huh?"

"So you wouldn't forget what?"

Percy shrugged nonchalantly, though he knew Grover could see past the wall, could read the hidden meaning in his posture and his face, in his very being.

He smiled wryly and took the letter in the small blue envelope, folding it in half then in half again before tucking it in the pocket over his heart. "So I wouldn't forget what I was fighting for."

Beside them, their waiter cleared their throat, and Percy almost leapt out of his seat. "Did you want to order something or not?"

He looked at the empty plates, and his stomach grumbled in reply. "Uh, do you guys offer anything to go?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Neverland**  
 _achieving elysium_  
written for the PJO/HoO Mini-Bang on tumblr

 _Dear Cho:_ _Look at where we are._

* * *

"So you never wrote letters to anyone else?" Grover asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel. The car shuddered as it rolled over a rough patch, and the rumbling engine shut off.

"Not really," Percy responded, getting out of the car and making a beeline for the built-in panel on the wall. "You think they'll accept drachmas?"

"Better try quarters first. Drachmas are gonna be for the message."

"I hate that you're right," he grumbled. "I wanted to see if car washes really do take drachmas. Random ancient Greek coins appearing alongside a bunch of quarters – that'd be funny."

"Oh, just hurry up and put the quarters in already."

Percy held his hands up in clear surrender and inserted six quarters into the small coin slot. The panel beeped when he pressed the button for the water spray gun; there was an awful squealing sound as Grover moved the spray gun over.

"Got it?" he asked, and a spray of water spewed from the nozzle. "Ah."

The two stepped into the sunlight but kept well away from the entrance, where they'd been seen. There was probably nothing more awkward than seemingly talking to a water spray gun.

A rainbow shimmered in the spray, and Grover passed the handle to Percy so he could throw in a drachma. "O Iris, Goddess of the Messenger," he said clearly, loud enough so that his voice echoed a bit in the tall, walled area. "please accept my offering. Show me Annabeth Chase in, uh, San Francisco."

"Or that's where we think she is."

The spray shimmered again, reds and oranges and deep blues changing into the view of a familiar figure. Percy's heart seemed to sputter for a moment when he saw her, and Grover nudged him, a stupid smile on his face.

"Annabeth!" he called. "Hey, Annabeth."

The demigod whirled around, her hand leaping to her side. She relaxed when she saw the Iris Message, her dark eyes analyzing everything in a matter of seconds. Percy saw a flash of bright teeth; he couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, tugging at her shirt. She adjusted the beads on her necklace, and Percy ran a hand through his hair, shifting slightly. Her eyes followed the movement. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Grover explained, voice light. "Thought we'd just, er, check in. How's it going on your end?"

Annabeth pursed her lips in a true Annabeth fashion, and her fingers picked out the pencil and hairband that had been keeping a messy bun in place. Golden hair tumbled down over her shoulders.

Finally, she said, "I was just talking to Chiron, actually…" Percy's curiosity spiked, and Grover leaned in a little, interested.

"Well? What'd he say?"

She shrugged. "He just asked me to keep an eye out for, um, Luke or anyone else… affiliated with Kronos." Annabeth cleared her throat after a moment and pinned the two of them with a heavy stare. They were in trouble. "So I heard you're not really in New York anymore."

Percy scratched the back of his neck and glanced at Grover. "Nah, yeah, we're kind of not in New York anymore."

She arched an eyebrow. "And you didn't think to tell me, maybe?"

"We kind of… forgot." Annabeth gave him _the look_ , and he raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "You can't blame us – this entire _trip_ was spur of the moment."

She blinked owlishly. "A… trip? To where?"

Grover stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "Just around America," he said casually, as if the two of them went on unplanned road trips across America every other week.

Apparently, Annabeth found it casual, too. Probably a bit casual. "Just… around America?" she confirmed, and they nodded. She stared at them in a mixture of stunned silence and disbelief before snorting. "You idiots."

"Hey!" Percy cried in indignation, putting a hand over his heart. He could feel his pulse if he just concentrated; it was fast and wild and uncontrollable, though he had no idea why. "Just so you know, we're having fun."

Beside him, he thought he heard Grover mutter something along the lines of: "Yeah, we're having so much fun avoiding near-death experiences. Best trip ever."

Annabeth sighed. "Spur of the moment?" and her tone was distant and forlorn. "You couldn't even have planned it?"

"Do we ever plan _anything_?"

She groaned, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand. "You're right, you _never_ do." He smirked triumphantly.

"So, uh, how's your family?" Grover tried, though he didn't seem to be expecting much. In all honesty, Percy didn't, either.

Annabeth and her mortal side of the family – well, it would be an exaggeration to say that they got along well. Her dad cared but spent most of his time cooped up in his study, spending long hours behind a desk with a stack of books and papers and a couple coffee cups littered here and there. Personally, he didn't see how Mr. Chase could stand it; it meant less time with his family and more time spent _reading_ , but each person to their own, he supposed.

Mrs. Chase he knew even less about, but they were on worse terms. Annabeth's stepmom probably wasn't as bad as Smelly Gabe – no one would ever be – but she wasn't exactly the best parent.

But after the events of last summer, he'd quietly carried the hope that she and her family would resolve a few of their problems. Annabeth had enough of her own already.

"We're okay, I guess," Annabeth replied hesitantly, her voice lifting at the end slightly as if she was asking a question. She glanced over her shoulder at the open door of her room behind her, checking for people. There was no one there to listen. "I mean, it's still kind of… hard sometimes."

She swallowed audibly. Percy waited patiently; he knew it was hard for her to admit things were difficult. They were polar opposites – he had no problem complaining about hard things sometimes, especially when it came to school.

"You doing alright?" he prompted gently, and she sighed.

"Yeah. Bobby and Matthew have no problems with me whatsoever, and I'm struggling a bit with Dad – we'll get into a few fights every now and then, but he actually listens to me now. A lot more than… than before."

"But Helen?" Grover started, and Annabeth shook her head.

"I mean, I thought after last summer she'd be a little more lenient, but now that I'm actually back it's like I've got a disease or something – except it's my fault. Like I'm infected and everything would be better if I was far away from here."

"Well, you're not," Percy said, beginning to feel anger rising up in him like a tidal storm. He took a deep breath. "infected, I mean. And your stepmom is blind if she can't see how– how great you are."

The words came out wrong, but Annabeth seemed to get it. She blushed, though it was hard to tell; it could've just been the light.

"Thanks, Percy." The smile she gave him was genuine, and the anger seemed to settle for a little bit. "That means a lot."

A loud beep interrupted them, and Grover let out a surprised _bah-ah-ah._

"The timer," he realized.

"I'll get it." Grover left before he could, and he looked back at Annabeth, the timer beeping softly in the background like a steady countdown to the end.

Annabeth's eyes were trained on Grover in the distance. He leaned against the wall and switched the water spray gun in his hands, adjusting it so he was comfortable.

"I was worried about you," his friend told him softly. "You didn't call me back."

"I'm sorry. For worrying you, I mean. I didn't mean to."

She shook her head. "You don't have to be. I just wanted to know if you were okay with, um, the prophecy and everything."

"Percy!" Grover called, and he looked over. "I'm going inside to switch out some dollars!" He gave Grover a thumbs up, and the satyr jogged to the small store he'd pointed out earlier nearby.

"Look, I–" Percy made a frustrated noise. He backtracked, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "I mean, it's not– I should've called you."

"You didn't have to," she pointed out. "I talked to Sally a few times. And we're talking now. I know it wasn't the happiest prophecy we've ever gotten."

"Understatement," Percy snorted under his breath.

"Are you okay, though?" Her grey eyes – as startlingly intense as they'd always been – looked concerned. "Really okay?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure," he admitted, though she was one of the only people he'd actually say that to. "I'm hanging on. It's not so bad out here when we're jumping all over the place."

Her lips curled upwards. "Call me, okay? Don't leave me in the dark again."

"I won't, I won't," he promised. "I'll call you, promise. I'll even pinky swear, look." He held up a pinky and waited as she laughed, the sound clear and strong.

"Pinky promise," she said, hooking her finger as if it was curling around his. He pressed his thumb gently to the mist, trying not to break the connection. Even across all the states with all of the miles in between them, it felt like she was there with him.

"Oh," he said, remembering his letter. "I never told you."

"About what?"

"My letters." He held up a hand, and she snapped her mouth shut. "I used to write letters to myself – well, to my future self. And later I'd read them."

"Uh huh," she said, waving a hand for him to continue. He just spread his arms.

"Hermes gave me one yesterday – wrote it last summer, actually. I just thought I'd tell you, I guess, they're nothing special, really. But I told Grover so."

Annabeth looked lost in thought now. "Do they help?" she asked suddenly, propping her hand under her chin. "Writing the letters, I mean?"

He thought about it. "I guess?"

"You should write more, then," she suggested simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "while you're on the road trip when you've got time."

"That's not a bad idea, actually," he said, and Annabeth snorted.

"I don't _have_ bad ideas, Percy," she told him. He struggled to think of an occasion when this wasn't true; nothing came to mind.

The timer stopped beeping, and Grover joined the two. "Did I hear something about bad ideas?" he asked, jerking a thumb in Percy's direction. "Cause you're full of them."

" _Grover_ ," Percy complained. "I thought you were my best friend!"

"Well, you are," he said. "but you still have bad ideas all the time."

He shook his head. "That hurts, Grover. Hits me right in the heart."

"Sorry," Grover apologized, but he didn't sound sorry. "I wish you were here, Annabeth. It's hard enough trying to save Percy's butt."

"Seriously?" he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "You are _on fire_ today, Grover. Geez, what did I even do to deserve this?"

"You're _you_ ," Annabeth chimed in, her eyes bright. He shoved the water spray gun in Grover's hands and stumbled back dramatically, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Not you, too, Annabeth," he lamented. "What is it, gang-up-on-Percy day?"

Annabeth looked off in the distance at what he assumed was a calendar, using her finger to tap a date. "Let me see," she said slowly, her eyes darting back and forth. "Yeah, today's the day."

"You two are so _mean_ to me," he cried loudly, wiping at fake tears. "I don't know _what_ I was thinking when I dragged you on this trip, Grover."

Annabeth let out a burst of laughter, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Nearby, Grover was already bent over, the hands holding the spray gun shaky and making the IM shiver.

He leaned back and relished in their laughter, bright and bursting with happiness. Making people laugh was one of the best things in the world, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He wouldn't pick anyone else to watch his back, either – not for anything. They were the only things he couldn't give up.

 _Personal loyalty,_ Annabeth's mom had once called it. The goddess had told him it would be his downfall – that it'd be Olympus' downfall. He gritted his teeth and instead told himself that they'd win the war. They had to, anyway; it wasn't a choice, and if it had been, he'd fight for his friends over and over.

"Earth to Percy," Annabeth called as Grover snapped his fingers in front of Percy's face. "or more like _brain_ to Percy."

"Oh my gods," he said, already done with the joking. "and here I was thinking you were done with the jokes."

"Oh, so you do have a brain," Annabeth teased, and if he could've shoved her, he would have.

"Whatever," he told her, pushing off the wall. "I'm done with you two. I'm leaving you behind now, Grover – this'll be a one-man road trip from now on."

"Oh, come on, Percy," his best friend said, and they all grinned. Percy felt lighter, as if a string that had been holding him down had suddenly been cut – and he'd been set free. Sort of. "You know you love me."

"And me," Annabeth burst out, and he fought the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "but we really should go, Annabeth."

"He's right," Grover sighed, waving a hand in goodbye. "I promise I'll tease him for you."

"Yeah, that's it, I'm going," he called, yanking the driver's door open. "See you on the other side of the country, Grover."

Annabeth glanced at Grover, pushing back a strand of hair. "Oh, please don't let him leave you behind. I knew there was a reason that we became friends."

"Don't worry," Grover said loudly, making sure Percy could hear him. "He doesn't have the car keys."

"Dammit," he said, pounding a fist against the top of the steering wheel. "I was going to get away with it, too."

He got back out of the car, grinning. "If it weren't for you meddling demigods," he muttered, before adding, "and satyr."

"I guess we'll see you later, then, Annabeth," Grover said, waving with his free hand. "We really do have to go. It doesn't take _that_ long to fake-wash a car."

"Don't forget to call me, Percy," she said, waving. "I've got homework to do, anyway."

He facepalmed. "Of all the things you can do, Annabeth, and you choose to do your homework. Meanwhile, Grover and I-" Here, he slung an arm over Grover's shoulders. "-are going to have the time of our lives. See you!"

"Bye, you two," she said, and he waved a hand through the mist, cutting off the connection.

"Can I get the keys _now_?"

Grover only laughed.

* * *

"Dear me," he said out loud, toying with the pen. It felt weird in his hands, the weight and the grip off – he was much more used to Riptide, but using a sword to write a letter wasn't the best idea.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Grover interjected. "Sorry."

"No, you're right, though," he said, spinning the pen between his fingers. "I'd be very glad if my future self was alive. Is alive. Is going to be alive?"

He scribbled a few words down before stopping to think again. "Did I ever tell you I hate writing?"

Grover didn't even bat an eye.

"Yeah," he said automatically. "There was that one time at Yancy where you almost burnt the paper we were supposed to write?"

He frowned.

"In my defense, that _was_ a pretty bad paper." He wrote a few more words and read them over before deciding they were no good, crossing them out and leaving lines in blue ink. "Hey, give me a topic to write about."

"Uh," Grover paused. "Friendship?"

"Sounded like a question," Percy commented, but his mind had already begun to think of ideas. He wrote a few more sentences and decided he liked them.

"You know," Grover said sometime later, looking up from the pages of a book he'd randomly selected from the shelves. "I never thought I'd actually see you spending more than a few minutes in a library."

"Aw, I thought you were done," he said distractedly, thinking about summer one and the smell of strawberries, about the taste of smoke and the glow of a bright campfire, the feeling of Annabeth's hand in one of his and Grover's in the other.

 _I found something in summer one,_ he wrote. _Something that I still have now, something that I think I'll always have._

"But honestly," Grover said, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grover use his finger as a bookmark as he closed the book for a second. "I don't remember you ever spending much time in a library."

"Well, no," he argued, and his words sparked another memory. "Annabeth dragged us into that one huge library once, right?" He put that down before he'd forget it – that memory wasn't a strong one, didn't mark an important occasion at all, but it had been filled with a thousand different small moments he usually never thought about.

He remembered the look on Annabeth's face, how she'd seemed to change from war-hardened into a girl her age, lights reflecting like stars in her eyes. Grover finding a small corner in the library to build a miniature book version of the Empire State, stacking books on top of other ones.

How the two of them had made the library into a place of beauty – a place that he'd previously continued to think was a cold, dull place. Memories could leave its mark on a place as deep as any storm could.

 _This place will never be the same,_ he scrawled. I _will never be the same – but I think that's a good thing._

 _Good luck,_

 _Percy Jackson_


End file.
